AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Callan walks behind me, keeping a short distance but we don’t talk, acting like strangers. It makes my heart ache but my pride is still wounded. All right, maybe it’s just a little bruised but it’s nothing a juicy pineapple can’t solve and my eyes round at the sight of one because I love those.
Bending to pick one up, I smile when a little girl that I at first didn’t notice, tugs at my dress and she gives me a cheeky grin.
“Pwetty,” she lisps, looking at my dress in awe and she does a little spin, causing her braids to flare and it makes me laugh and she gives me a shy look. “You a pwincess?”
“Sometimes,” I say even though I definitely don’t feel like one but I don’t want to crush her fantasies. The girl’s brother who’s standing next to her and waving an action figure around, points at Callan asking,
“Are you the monster?”
My smile dies, my heart sinking into oblivion and I can feel myself pale. The little girl who didn’t pay attention to Callan before, turns to him, looking like she’s on the verge of crying and I’m about to tell Callan that I want to leave when he crouches down by the kids, until he’s at their eye level.
His scars are even more protruding than ever in this unforgiving light and the boy swallows, while the girls tugs at her brother for comfort. “Nay boyo, monsters are evil,” Callan says, his voice leveled, “and I’m not evil.”
The girl’s lip stops quivering and a curious flicker shows in the boy’s eyes. “Then what are you?” He looks at his action figure. “Are you a little bit like him?”
Callan nods. “Aye, little bit. Sometimes.” The kids’ faces light up like Christmas trees and I choke down a sigh as my ovaries are about to explode when a frantic woman comes rushing down the aisle.
“Elijah! Sophia!” she cries hysterically, distress coloring her face. She grabs her children by their arms. “What did I tell you about talking to bad men?”
“He’s no bad man, mommy,” the boy whines, looking hurt but his mother ignores him, throwing a furious scowl at Callan who rises and I notice that he’s purposefully trying to make himself smaller.
“I meant no harm, Hannah,” Callan calmly says but her mouth only tenses and she starts pulling at her children.
“Stay away from my kids, Byrne,” she spits. “And why are you back here anyways? Do us all a favor and leave Falls. We don’t want people like you here.”
What is wrong with this woman?
“That’s not your decision to make,” I scold her and she jerks, her gaze flaying to me then to Callan again, her eyes narrowing.
“Are you a cradle snatcher now too?” she yaps at him.
Anger flares in me and clutching my pineapple, tempted to throw it at her head, I snap, “I’m twenty-two years old and you’re being rude.”
The woman looks as if she’s about to yell at me too when Callan puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing and her eyes fill with pity, like she feels sorry for me for being in Callan’s company.
Without a word, she turns, marching down the aisle with her thick heels slamming against the floor and her kids protesting on either side of her at her agitated treatment.
My heart pounds in my chest, my limbs trembling and I take a couple of deep breaths, murmuring, “Friend of yours?”
“We went to school together.” He puts his hand between my shoulder blades, the touch comforting and full of intimacy despite the simplicity of it. “Let’s pay for this stuff and leave.”
I nod silently, my steps heavy as we walk to the cash register. I’m still disturbed and upset by what just happened and it hurts even more when Callan acts like it’s not a big deal. Is this what he was used to when he lived here?
Is this how they treated him? Is this how they treat the man who is practically my hero? The one who relentlessly worked on my case and is now going out of his way to protect me?
How dare they? He’s one of the sweetest, most wonderful men I’ve ever met. I swallow, deciding that some people are just awful. He’s too good for them. They don’t deserve him.
On our way home, I stay close to him and if he wanted to he could pull away, put some professional, non-brow raising distance between us but he doesn’t. Our arms brush, causing prickles to cover my body.
Looking down at me, Callan rasps, “Don’t worry about it, Melody. It is what it is.”
But maybe it doesn’t have to be.
10
Callan
Melody insists on making us dinner and I don’t protest, despite it beingobvious that she doesn’t have any domestic skills. But it is appealing to me that she tries and I make myself comfortable by the kitchen table, watching her intently but turn away and pretend to be aloof when she glances at me.
